


Campaign for Color

by stipulativeTzigane



Category: The Adventure Zone (Podcast)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst and Feels, Dysfunctional Family, F/M, Gen, Memory Loss, Mention of Canon Death, Platonic Soulmates, Self-Hatred, Soulmates, lonely orphaned wizard boy, some taako backstory, unhappily married
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-12
Updated: 2018-02-22
Packaged: 2019-03-17 05:43:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,757
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13652607
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stipulativeTzigane/pseuds/stipulativeTzigane
Summary: Soulmate fic where you can only see color when your with someone you're in love with. This checks in with the boys at couple points during their lives. to see how they feel about color.Tags will change as I write, though the rating will stay the same.





	1. after "stolen century" before "here be gerblins"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> hay! here's a lazy fanfic. time to strap in for some haphazard angsty, headcanon riddled, run-on-sentence-y nonsense. 
> 
> the first chapter is an introduction to the characters. so it's shorter and has all three of them. the rest will be personalized and longer. so, I hope that's okay. 
> 
> I'm not a writer (i mean I'm a person who writes, and that is the definition of "a writer "soooo???? but then again this is the first creative thing I've written since high school sooooooooo?1?//) and I'm bad at spelling. I'm running this thing through at least two editing websites so hopefully it readable, but any constructive criticism is welcome.

**Magnus remembered color; he still had dreams in it.** A warm red-lipped smile distorted by heat. Bright green eyes set in dark skin.  
He remembered the first time he saw her. an english mastiff tongue had just drenched his face in thick slobber. Steven had mumbled something about coffee inside as he’d left an impressive door open. Magnus realized he'd been sleeping/blocking the steps to the Hammer and Tongs. After the giant animal moved away from his prone form Magnus got his bearings.  
In the back of the shop, he realized he didn't remember why or how he got here, just that he'd been traveling with a group for what felt like forever, and they'd broken up recently. He was hungover and possibly mildly concussed, with dog slobber sticking the front of his bed-head straight up when he got his colors.  
Halfway through a conversation with Steven, trying to figure out how he ended up in Ravens Roost, they were politely interrupted by a sweet voice, he had turned to see the owner and his vision bloomed around her. their eyes locked, as her sentence cut itself off. It was almost too much, the vibrant hues that Magnus didn't even have words for yet made his eyes water. It was exactly how they told you it would be when you were a kid. Like your first cup of coffee, all heat and nervous energy; almost too much to swallow. He had stood, without telling himself to. Walking to her slowly in amazement. He was almost afraid if he made too sudden of a movement he would scare the beautiful hues away. He moved until he could have counted every freckle across her face. But she was the one to reach up to a hand and touch his cheek as if she couldn't believe he was real.

 **At first, Merle didn't notice, It was easy to lose track of something you see every day.** After the first 26 years, he barely noticed the bright Jasper tones of Hekuba’s skin. At the end, he wondered whether he stopped being able to see them, or just stopped looking. There were a few days now that he was far away and tried not to think about it, that he liked to believe he never saw them at all.  
But he did. The first time his son opened his eyes they were hazel-blue, Merle remembered them so vividly; they kept him up at night. And Mavis with her striking Bronze hair pleated back into braids. He could never seem to forget the way they stood out against the Turquoise of the water when he was first teaching her to swim. He had seen them, and for what he had done he knew (if there was just one reasonable god out there) he should never see them again.

 **Taako had never seen Color, but he knew ‘Magic Missile’ was red with purple sparks.** He wasn't sure how he knew, he figured it was a magic thing. Maybe wizards just _know_ when you get good enough. Taako heard there were wizards who were trained on everything magic, including on the weird psychological effects of long-term spell use on a brain; Taako also heard there were dwarves under the western mountains that had so much gold they use thin sheets of it to wipe their ass. But those sort of lifestyles were equally unattainable for the young Elf.  
The last time he had a “professional” Wizard even bringing up spell casting to Taako it was to do a rather “hands-on” demonstration of Banishment. He could remember it fondly, it was the first time Taako felt the dark never-ending-ness of a pocket dimension. That terrifying void not only convinced him to expand his tattered spell book to cover some sick abjuration spells but also had made him remember and return the coin purse he'd found bumping into the long beard-ed ass-hole.  
Full Scholarships to fantastic Magical schools just don't happen for lonely orphaned wizards. how would that even work? It's not like a personal ambassador was gonna show up with a celebratory cake, and a ticket for the train. Shit like that didn't happen.In Taako's experience: lonely orphaned wizards learn their own spells from trial, error, and victimization.


	2. after "here be gerblins" before "murder on the Rockport limited"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> heres some Taako thought prosess. i realy like the idea that the first thing he remebers is killing berry or that the void fish cant erase the abstract feelings you get from memories.

**Taako was quietly freaking out.** It’d been a reality-bending day. In Fact, his entire view of the world he knew had been shifted significantly. And now he was sitting at the head of the lower bunk of a bed. in a room shared with four strangers. sat inside the floating moon base, that used mind-control technology to hide the truth from the masses. It had been an eventful Tuesday. Probably the most eventful day he’d had in a while.

He could only think of one that topped it. the day that started with him shooting a stranger off the side of a boat... he didn't know why he’d done it, but he’d watched as the body topple over the guardrail tangling itself in a dark robe as it fell. Then he had thrown up and spent only a few moments as he tried to get his bearings. He hadn't managed to, but he had found a map and a cache of supplies with wand and spell book inside. He eventually found an in a small inn on the side of a back road. After flirting to gain access to a drunk man’s room Taako left with a new set of clothes and a rather cute haircut. In the next town over, he joined a small convoy who he convinced needed a good cook.

He felt something wet roll down his face as he thought back to that day. he always did. he didn't know why but his chest always ached like he'd lost something that day, it was disorienting. so was today with all the things he remembered in the last 24 hrs. but it wasn't the mass-mind-control or the floating moon base that was wigging him out. It was the umbrella. Taako sat as far from it as possible while having both him and the accessory in new twin-sized living space. His slender frame was huddled on the bed bent down from the low bunk, wrapped in the felt blanket he was given. Taako stared out at it.

He’d never seen it before, it was too ruffly too to be his, not that he didn't love ruffles, but he was more of a frill man. The handle was elegantly over curved and made of worn metal. it leads into a pole of two different types of wood, twisted around each other. The fabric of the umbrella was dark and silky. It caught the light and threw it back in smooth but brief swaths. There were a couple extra layers of fabric sewn to the rim of the umbrellas cap. (providing the aforementioned ruffles.) Small glass beads were sewn along the seams that held the fabric to the frame. That frame was bowed, so even when it closed the shape resembled a long, thin spade. The whole thing ended with a simple cylindrical ferrule, made of the same metal as the handle and frame. At the very top was nothing but an indent. as if someone had taken the pad of their thumb and pressed into the flat top of the metal with overwhelming force.

He found it tasteful, somehow simple, dramatic, and elegant. And here in this shared room as it lay still in the dark, it seemed almost harmless. Like how knives feel harmless when they've been nicely filled away into a kitchen drawer. Taako was a cook. he didn't think knives were harmless, but they weren't Dangerous either. He wasn't a meteorologist, so he wasn't sure about the umbrella. He did have a feeling that even a very experienced Meteorologist would be concerned about this particular umbrella.

Taako forced himself to let out a breath he just realized he had been holding. Gripping his simple wand with both hands. He drew up his courage and extended a barefoot from his bundle of safety. With nothing but the utmost caution, he pressed his big toe to a fold of the soft fabric.

The effect was painful. Red streamed into his world. Hot and Vibrant even in the dim of the room. Taako jumped back pulling his extremities in. The color faded, leaving a ghost image of the object burned into the back of his eyelids. He breathed in, forcing himself to calm down. And this time he leaned forward and picked up the thing through the cloth of the blanket. There was no change, not a single flicker of color. This wasn’t right, this isn't how it worked. Colormates were lovers, your one true another half. whenever they were close you were supposed to be able to see the whole range of hues. You didn't need to have skin contact, and it wasn't supposed to happen with objects.

Taako swallowed hard, fighting the bile rising in his throat. Was he really so messed up his Colormate was a bundle of fabric and beads? He wanted to break it, to throw it into a pocket dimension and seal it forever so he’d never see it again. But for some reason, he knew he wouldn't be able to. With a silent hand, he moved slender fingers to the soft fabric.

It was Red, deep rich red. the beads and metalwork were gold-colored. the colors in the handle didn't come to life at all, but he wasn't sure if they were just grey or he just couldn't see those. He’d met a man once who only had part of his colors: said he got his first three from a very close friend when he was young. said he was waiting for the third piece. Taako figured he’d been lying, but he wasn't sure about anything to do with colors anymore.

Looking around, most of the room was grey. his Sachell was red-brown, his braid was a pale-gold, and Manus’ burnt orange facial hair could be seen on the top bunk across the room. He closed his eyes fighting back the water their. It almost hurt to see the vibrant shades. He knew crying when you got your colors was a cliche. But he’d always figured it was because it's an emotional situation. it had never occurred to him that they'd be so overwhelming.

After a moment he placed the accessory in the crack between the mattress and the wall. And laid down for a restless night's sleep.


End file.
